All I Have Known
by Amazon Life
Summary: AU. Aurora and Mulan go to Storybrooke with Emma and Mary Margaret. Regina becomes aware of the consequences of sending the wraith to Fairytale Land when she realizes that is what killed Philip and deprived Aurora of her true love.
1. Useless

**Hi there! It's me again. :) I have been meaning to write this for a while, but have been stalling it mainly because the idea was still quite hazy in my head. I knew what I wanted to do, but had absolutely no idea about **_**how**_** to do it. I tried a few things, but never got past the first paragraph because it simply didn't work. But now I think (keyword being "think") I have figured something out. **

** What makes me think so? The fact that I had intended this to be a very short one-shot, but it took a life of its own and so far I have a few chapters outlined in my head. I am not completely sure about where I am going with this anymore, but well... I guess I'll try and see where this takes me.**

** Also, yes, I know it's a very unusual character combination, and honestly I don't even think there'll be anyone wanting to read something about these two, but yeah... it makes sense in my head. I am still hesitant to call it a "pairing" though, exactly because I haven't decided in which direction to take it yet, so if anyone does read this... I'll appreciate opinions. :)**

**Now, enough with the babbling, and on with the story!**

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They get here just a couple of minutes after Emma and Snow, probably due to some sort of portal-travelling spacetime distortion, since they most likely jumped immediately after them. I'm distracted talking to Emma, trying to be nice for the sake of my son, but at the same time honestly relieved to see them back safely, strange as it may sound. That means I don't notice either of the two others until I turn around to watch my son leave with his other mother and my stepdaughter. I wonder for a moment how confusing all of this is... but I simply brush the thought away. This is not the place nor the time to be reflecting about family ties and how messed up ours are.

So instead I just focus on the two newcomers, with their Fairytale Land clothes, something I haven't seen for twenty nine years. I notice immediately how different they are from one another, like day and night. The one in the armor obviously draws attention from everyone, not only because it makes her seem far larger than I suppose she actually is, but also because of the peculiarity of a woman wearing something like that, and for the fact that her features are certainly not from the part of the land where most of us come from.

But the one that really catches my eye is the other one, the seemingly meek and even somewhat scared one in the tattered lavender dress. Just from looking at her, I can see she is a princess; or used to be, since the state she's in emanates anything but royalty, but her pose and her lady-like behavior even when in fear make it clear that she was raised as such. I can also notice right away that she hasn't been having it easy lately, and not just because of the severely worn out clothes and disheveled hair; royalty doesn't have the kind of look she has in her eyes. That's something that only pain gives you.

She intrigues me, and I cannot exactly pinpoint why. There's just something about her that draws me in. There's something vaguely familiar about her as well, as if I knew her from somewhere, or as if she really looked like someone I know, but I am also unable to recall who that would be. That is, until I hear someone calling her by her name. Aurora. Briar Rose's daughter. I find myself stupid for not realizing it sooner: she has her mother's eyes and rosy cheeks and golden curls, and that kind of soft, glistening, annoying as hell beauty and radiance that only the select few highest princesses have.

This is the girl Maleficent cursed with the same sleeping curse I got from her in exchange for the dark curse that brought us all here; this is the girl that was put to sleep after her mother managed to be rescued out of it exactly the same way Snow White was. Apparently this one has followed the same path, because she is clearly not sleeping anymore. I wonder where her prince is, though. I even turn to check if anyone else came out of the well, thinking maybe he had some delay as well, but no one else appears. I frown slightly, somewhat confused.

But again I just brush it off, thinking I'll have time to learn more about these two strangers later, ask them my questions, try to figure out how come there is anything left of Fairytale Land at all, and find out why exactly they came into our world. I make a mental note to start investigating soon, before following everyone else in the procession to wake idiot #2 from his slumber.

It takes me just a couple of days of observation, attentive ears and a bit of probing and asking to others and finally to the two of them to find the answers to at least some of my questions. Especially, I am told of the reason why her prince did not come along. I am told he's no longer alive. I am told he succumbed to the same thing that would have killed me, if it had not been for my idea to send it to Fairytale Land through the hat. Which means that it is my fault he died.

I don't think they know it; as far as I can tell, they think Emma and Snow took the wraith with them when they jumped through the portal – and not the other way round. And mainly, they don't seem to know it was _me _who actually sent the wraith that way. I don't think they would be agreeing to talk to me, even suspicious and weary as they are, even if it is to help make sure that Cora does not find us here, if they knew. Quite the opposite, they would probably be willing to hand me in to my mother on a silver plate to be hopefully tortured and killed. Which is what I probably deserve.

Because they might not know it, but I do. I killed this girl's true love, her savior prince. I killed a good man, even without knowing, much less intending to. I killed someone, even when I am trying my damn hardest to be a good person, to not do any harm at all, for the sake of my son. When they tell me about it, I suddenly find it hard to breathe. My chest grows heavy, too heavy for the air to go in, and I start heaving. They look concerned, and it just makes it a million times worse, because they should _not _be concerned about me. They should be _punching _me, beating me to death, shooting me, cutting me in half... anything, anything but looking at me with worried eyes and asking me if I am feeling well.

I cannot face them, either of them, but especially the princess. So I just get up and walk out of Granny's without a word, as fast as I can while still not giving anyone the pleasure of seeing me run. I go all the way to my house simply because I know those steps by heart, so my feet guide me in spite of the fact that I can barely see anything ahead of me, because my vision has long become all blurry. Finally, I arrive home and let myself fall on the couch, my chest still doing all sorts of crazy things, like absolutely refusing to expand to receive the breaths I am fighting so hard to take, for instance.

It's useless, it's absolutely useless. Everything I have been trying to do, anything I could possibly do for the whole rest of my life, whatever I manage to come up with... it's all useless. And the worst part of it is that I should have known it all along. Redeeming myself? What was I thinking? That is never going to happen; that is just not possible. I cannot redeem myself, I cannot atone for all the things I have done, I cannot be good, no matter how hard I try. I am never going to be good. I never was, even when people thought I was; my mother was the only one to see it. I was a bad child, and then I became a bad person, a monster... and there's just no way back from that. Anything I do to try to change that will always amount to nothing. I'll always end up hurting someone, even when I am honestly trying not to. Any effort I make to avoid that will be useless. Because _I _am useless. There's no escaping from this fact. I cannot do anything good. I cannot _be _anything good.

I killed a man. Actually, no; I killed _many _men, and also women and even children. But this one if different. This one, I never meant to harm. And yet I did. And by doing that, I deprived someone of the person they love, I condemned someone to live the same life I have been living for so many years. I have made someone lose the same innocence I had, when I still believed in love and in happy endings and in a better life, when I still thought the world, any world, could be a nice place to live in, when I still believed life itself was good. Because there _was _a time when I did. There was a time when I had faith in all of that. But it all went away together with Daniel. And now I have doomed someone to go through the very same thing – and for once, it had absolutely nothing to do with revenge.

_There was a time when men were kind  
When their voices were soft  
And their words inviting  
There was a time when love was blind  
And the world was a song  
And the song was exciting  
There was a time  
Then it all went wrong _

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** So, what do you think? Should I go on?**

** I'm pretty sure the song dispenses with introductions, but in any case... that's "I dreamed a dream", from the Les Misérables soundtrack.**


	2. A fresh start

** You asked for an update? You get an update! ;) **

** You will notice the point of view changed in this chapter. I do intend to play with it throughout the story... I hope it doesn't end up being too confusing. I'll always signal it with the font, though: regular font = Regina; italics = Aurora. Okay?**

** Also, this goes unbetaed and unchecked... it's 5 am here and I just want to post this before going to bed. So if you find any mistakes or typos or something (I'm pretty sure you will), I'm sorry in advance! I'll try to check it tomorrow and fix whatever needs to be fixed, but right now I'm too tired for it. -.-**

* * *

I dreamed a dream in time gone by  
When hope was high  
And life worth living  
I dreamed that love would never die  
I dreamed that God would be forgiving

_ I thought things would be different in this world. I thought I could have a new start, a new life... I thought I could just forget about everything that had ever happened before, about everything I lived in Fairytale Land. I thought, for once, I could drive away all the ghosts inside my head, I could get rid of my thoughts and my memories and my fears. I thought, maybe, I would stop spending my whole days haunted by the image of my parents as they died by the hands of Maleficent's guards, or by the image of Philip having his soul sucked by that monster, or by the image of Maleficent herself, barely being able to hide her smile as she handed me that spindle and watched me prickle my finger on it and condemn myself to eternal torture in exchange for the safety of my love._

_ I dared to hope. And that was perhaps my biggest mistake, time after time. When I was a child and watched a dragon enter my playroom and take my mother away, and when I heard that dragon had been a witch who wanted nothing more than to ruin my parents' happiness, I dared to hope my father would fix things, find her, bring her back and everything would be all right. He did find her, he did wake her up with one simple kiss, he did bring her back... but one of his legs stayed behind, inside Maleficent's stomach._

_ Still, I dared to hope that had been the end of it, and things would go back to being as calm as they were before as soon as my father learned how to walk properly on his newly acquired wooden leg. But then people started complaining about having a cripple as their king, and so many landlords and knights started invading our kingdom to try and kill my father, or at least expel us from the castle and from the land and secure the throne to themselves. I hoped somehow we would find a way out of it, and we did: by forging and alliance with the ruler of our neighboring kingdom. The price, this time, was my hand in marriage, as soon as I was old enough. It seems a small price to be paid for military help, but the king was an old man who had never managed to find a wife, and urgently needed to produce a heir before he died. A young princess was far more than he had ever hoped to find at that point._

_ It was not what I wanted, of course; I would have never thought I would end up marrying a man old enough to be my grandfather. But my parents were so desperate, and I understood how much danger we were in, so when they asked me, I agreed. Yet, somehow, I still hoped I would find a way out of that. And that way came, when my betrothed died when I was no more than 14, before any weddings could occur. Of course, he dying without a heir meant his land and his army went to the hands of one of his brothers, who was not so keen on lending us his soldiers._

_ We somehow survived and fended off the attacks for around a year, but our army was not exactly supportive of my father either. They, too, thought they could have a better king, one who could still fight. Another alliance was made, being paid by money we did not exactly own at that point, alongside with my hand. This time, however, it was to a young prince just a few years older than me. He travelled to our castle to seal the agreement... and during the couple of months he spent there courting me, we fell in love. I thought, surely, that meant things were going to be fine from then on._

_ That was exactly when Maleficent chose to strike again – as if she had just been waiting for the right time, for the time when our guard was down and we were all daring to have hope again. But her own army, helped by the power of her dark magic,was far stronger than Philip's father's forces. In the end, our own soldiers betrayed us and joined Maleficent, after being promised high positions to whomever handed us in to her general._

_ I am still not sure how exactly I survived. I know that one of my maids, whose son was a soldier, heard about their plans with just enough time to run to my room and alert me. Just as we were going to my parents' bedchambers to tell them we had to run away, we saw the guards coming. All we could do was hide inside a wardrobe; all _I _could do was bite the sleeves of my dress to keep myself from screaming out loud as I watched through the lock and saw my mother and father be killed right in front of me, without being able to do anything to stop it. I wanted to go out, I wanted to scream and let them know I was there so that they would kill me too... but my maid held me so tight in her arms, and she was so much bigger and stronger than me, and in the end I just gave up fighting, because if they found us, they would kill her too._

_ I left the kingdom with her that night, dressed like a peasant and with no more than a small sack of my former clothes and food for the journey. I went to Philip, of course; he was the only one I had left. His father kindly took me in, his mother nursed me back to health, and with time, after a couple of years had passed calmly, I dared to hope again. I was just so naïve... I could barely help myself. Hope was just ingrained in me somehow. _

_ I dared to hope I could leave all of that behind, marry Philip and start our own family, and I'd be happy with him. Our wedding was scheduled, my dress was being sewn, the palace we would live in was nearly finished. I could barely wait to start my new life with him. But yet again, Maleficent had to come after me. I could not believe my eyes when I saw her materialize in front of me. She simply appeared in a purple haze, right inside my bedroom, and it was enough to make my legs go weak and my whole body start to shake. I was sure that was my last living minute._

_ And then she laughed. She laughed at my fear, and called me a silly, frightened girl, and told me that she was not going to kill me. She gave me a moment of relief, a short moment of hope, before adding that her plans for me were far worse than death. And what's more... I would accept them willingly, and I would do exactly what she told me to. That was my time to laugh, because I would never comply with her wishes – not even if that meant she would indeed kill me. But it was not me who she intended to kill if I did not do as she said. It was Philip. And whereas I could risk my life, even if the thought scared me to no end, I could simply not risk his, ever._

_ So I did it. She was right. I did exactly what she asked of me. I sneaked away in the middle of the night, yet again, leaving only a short note on my bed telling Philip to not look for me. I stole a horse and rode it to our palace... to our future home. And, upon getting there and being told about what my fate would be, I willingly accepted it. I would have accepted even worse, if it had meant protecting my love. _

_ At that point, I had given up on hope. Things would _not _be all right. All the hope I could have was for other people. Especially for my prince. I hoped he would find another princess for him, someone more beautiful and sweeter and better than me in every way; someone he could love more than he ever loved me, so that he could forget about me and be happy with her. Maybe I was not his true love, after all; maybe there was still hope for him. But for me... there was none. My future was very much certain, and all I knew about it was that it consisted of a never-ending nightmare which would be worse than death itself._

_ And then, exactly when I did not hope anymore, the miracle occurred. I was trapped in that world of torture for what felt like a thousand years (although I know now that it was only twenty-nine), and each second was worse than the one before. But one day, I woke up. And the first thing I saw was the face of the man I love hovering over me. I was not sure if I should thank him for finding me, or scold him for looking at all, knowing from experience what Maleficent was capable of doing with brave princes and kings who dared to save the princesses she cursed. But he told me she was nowhere to be found, probably dead or at least vanished. I was weary and suspicious, and I told him so, but he was so certain... and I trusted him so much._

_ In no more than a few minutes, hope had again found its way into my heart. Maybe, with Maleficent gone, we could finally have some peace. Even in the version of Fairytale Land that I woke up to, even with the destruction and abandonment so visible all around me, I dared to dream we would finally be able to get married and have our happy endings. But it did not last a whole day. That monster, that wraith, had to come and take my beloved prince's soul... and again, there was absolutely nothing I could do to stop it. And again, all I could do was watch him die right in front of me. Except this time, I did scream. I screamed with all my might, until my throat went raw, long after his body had stopped moving. But no screaming in the world could have brought him back. It was useless._

_ The next days were a haze in my mind. I cried. I veiled over Philip's lifeless form. I never left his side. I did not eat or sleep, and only drank occasionally when Mulan forced me to. I only walked because I had to, because we had a "haven" to get to, and two people to blame for Philip's death, and to hopefully execute as soon as we got there._

_ Things didn't go as planned, though. One of the people was apparently Snow White... in very weird clothes and a manly haircut. I guess that was what brought me back to life: knowing that Snow White had killed the love of my life. Because I _knew _Snow White, or at least I had known her many years before. Her father visited mine once, and I saw her in court. I was a child, she was around 10 years older than me, and she was indeed so extremely fair. I admired her. I wanted to be like her when I grew up and became a lady too. She was kind and gentle and beautiful. And she had killed the man who would be my husband. That was worse than if it had been just a monster, or anyone else, anyone either unknown or clearly evil. I felt betrayed, even if I know I did not exactly have the right to feel that way, because she was no more than a childhood role model for me._

_ I wanted revenge. That was all I could think of. I wanted her dead. I thought she as well deserved to be dead. I knew it would not bring Philip back... but perhaps it would bring me some small consolation. That was what I focused on. But yet again, my plan didn't work. In the end, I was forced to accompany them on their quest to go back to the weird land they had come from, bringing that damned creature with them. That gave them enough time to explain themselves, to let us know they were genuinely sorry for our loss, to convince us it had been just an accident and they had never meant to end up in our land – and that was clearly true, so much so that all they wanted was to get back to their home. It was enough to appease my anger. I was never one to stay angry for too long anyway, no matter how big my pain was... especially not when the person I was angry at was not exactly to blame._

_ So I took their quest to my heart, as if it were my own. I had nothing else to do, after all, and I needed to occupy myself, or else I would most definitely become insane. I also had nowhere else to be. No one else to be with. I had no home, no family, no loved ones. I could, in a way, sympathize with their pain. But, differently from me, they _did _have a family and a home and loved ones to go back to; they just were not with them at that time. So if I could do something to fix that pain in someone else, then be it, even if it would not mean my own would be healed. I needed a project to focus on, and that seemed like a worthy cause. They did need someone who wouldn't mind giving their life in situations of danger, and I was the perfect one for that role; I was completely expendable. Honestly, at that point, I would welcome death._

_ But then they started talking about that land of theirs, and Snow told me about how it had allowed so many of them to have a fresh start. They told us about the food, and my stomach grumbled every time I tried to imagine it. In time, I even started wanting to try on those weird clothes they wore; Snow's pink blouse-thing was somewhat cute, after all, even if I'm probably biased because of how much I love pink. And that fresh start... the new life, the promise of leaving everything behind, all the memories and the pain (because that was all I had left to leave behind; everything else, I had already lost)... it was so tempting, the idea simply would not leave my mind. I became obsessed with it. I started dreaming about it. I started hoping again._

_ Yet, here I am... in the new land, with new clothes and a small apartment that I share with Mulan to call my new home. And all my ghosts, and all my memories, and all my pain still exactly where they were before. Everything outside me has changed; absolutely nothing inside me has. The one difference is that I have more things to distract myself with here, starting by learning the names of everyone – and that includes both their current names and the ones they used to go by in Fairytale Land – and their customs and how they do things around this land. _

_ They have asked me if I want to change my name as well – so many of them have adopted new ones, after all; I ask for time to think, because the idea sounds oddly appealing. As much as I like my name, changing it might help me start over, I guess. So I start researching and gathering ideas, and that is one more thing to occupy my mind with. With all of that, yes, I do end up thinking about Philip and my mother and father and the life I left behind and all the dreams I had for it far less than I had been doing in Fairytale Land, at least so far. _

_ I try to allow the new life I am trying to construct to take the place of the one I wish I had been able to have inside my mind. I try to build new dreams to substitute the old ones. But I don't even know what I can dream about anymore. My love is gone, lost forever. There are no castles, no princes or princesses here. And everything I had ever wanted was exactly that: my husband, my castle, my children running around it. I never dreamed about anything more than that... and that is one dream that is completely shattered, and all I can do about it is mourn it, just like I mourn my promised husband, just like I mourn my mother and father, just like I mourn the castle of my childhood, where I lived with them. It's all I can do. _

_ The new dreams don't come. I try, I really do. I close my eyes and I try to picture myself being happy; I try to imagine what would make me so, how I can possibly achieve a happy ending in this world, to give me some idea of what to look for here. But I can't. It just doesn't come to me; I cannot imagine myself being happy anymore. I don't know how I ever could be, after losing my one true love, my one promise of a happy ending. How can someone be happy, after their happy ending has been stolen from them? The people here have spent the last twenty-nine years without their happy endings, being apart from the ones they love; but all of that has been restored to them, apparently thanks to Emma, from what I've been explained. But how do you restore something like life? How can I get Philip's life back? And how can I possibly be happy without him, without the family we could have?_

_ This was probably a mistake. Coming here... it was useless. I can have a new life, like I'm having now, even if my pain is not going away. I can get myself a new place to live, maybe work with something (even if all I know how to do, like sewing or cooking or embroidering, seems long outdated in this world), I can make new friends... but I cannot get myself a happy ending. My chance at that is over. And, for once, so is my hope. Because I know how things are. I know how things happen. I know there's no other shot at a true love. And I know one cannot be happy or whole without it. One cannot have a family without it. One can only be lonely and miserable. And that's exactly what I am, even here. It makes absolutely no difference where I am. Things are not getting better this time. And I am not forgetting about how bad they are, either._

_ I am sure of it as soon as the Queen – or Regina, since people have lost all their titles here – asks Mulan and I to join her for a talk. Apparently, she has questions for us. Questions that will definitely make me think of things that I do not want to think about. Even here... my old life still haunts me. Just a few days of a break, during which I had not even been able to completely forget, and again I'm being forced to remember._

_ It sounds plausible, though, considering we have been in Fairytale land far more recently than she has, and, differently from Snow and Emma, we were there before the curse had been broken. We were in the part of the land preserved by her mother's magic. Mulan, especially, probably has a lot to offer in means of information, since she actually had contact with Cora before us. And in a way, I might have too, considering that woman stole my heart, even if briefly. So it does not come as a surprise that she wants to talk to us. With a mother like that, I would want to gather information and take some precautions too. Honestly, after having met Cora, all the things I have heard about Regina sound at least a bit less bad; certainly growing up with someone like that mustn't have been easy._

_ What _does _come as a surprise is her question about my sleeping curse. I did not even know she was aware of it... but then again, she was not only a queen, she was a witch too, and witches probably know each other. She must have known Maleficent... and the mere thought of that is enough to end my short-lived sympathy for her. I do, so far, still prefer her to Cora, though. After all, she did make it possible for us to arrive here. So I tell her everything I know. I tell her about the sleeping curse and how it made me not know much of what happened in our part of the land during the last decades, I tell her about Philip finding me with Mulan's help and waking me up, and when she asks why he is not here, I tell her about the wraith. _

_ And then the most unexpected thing of all happens: she seems shaken by it. Actually, "shaken" would be an understatement. It seems like someone has punched her gut and taken all the air out of her lungs, because we can see her struggle to breathe. She gets up from her chair and nearly falls back down the very next second, and Mulan quickly rises to steady her. I ask if she is feeling well, if she needs a glass of water or anything similar, but she just walks away without a word..._

_ I wonder how on Earth she is going to get home like that, when she can barely stand... But what I really, really wonder is what made her that way. Did she know Philip? Did she care about him, to be that affected by the news of his passing? Somehow, I find that hard to fathom. I cannot, however, think of any other reason why she would have reacted that way. _

_ It's only the next day that I remember something I overheard Snow and Emma commenting once, about how she, too, had watched her love die right in front of her, not being able to do anything about it. That was apparently what had made her turn evil. Perhaps telling her about Philip made her remember all of it... and if that is so, I understand, because I, too, feel like I absolutely cannot breathe, like my legs will fail and let me fall, like my heart is going to explode, every time I think about it, every time I have a nightmare about it, every time the images come back to my head. Somehow, my sympathy for her comes back; witch or not witch, evil queen or not evil queen, no one deserves to go through this pain. In a way, though, I find it comforting to know I am not the only one going through it around here. I know it makes me an awful person... but I can't help it. I'm not the only hopeless one._

But the tigers come at night  
With their voices soft as thunder  
As they tear your hope apart  
As they turn your dream to shame

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** So, how was that? Since they haven't given us Aurora's backstory yet, I took the liberty of creating it... I'm hoping you won't mind it. ;)**

** And again, the song is the same: "I dreamed a dream", from the Les Misérables soundtrack.**

** Please let me know what you think!**


	3. What have I done?

** So, it's not really like me to update this often (or to be home on a Saturday night), but I spent the whole day suffering from cramps and a headache, with a special participation of my gastritis due to the pain meds I took for the first two... Delicious, huh? So, since I was pretty much incapable of leaving my bed today, I took the time to do some writing, and now I can actually present you with this. :)**

* * *

_What have I done?  
Sweet Jesus, what have I done?  
Become a thief in the night,  
Become a dog on the run  
And have I fallen so far,  
And is the hour so late  
That nothing remains but the cry of my hate,  
The cries in the dark that nobody hears,  
Here where I stand at the turning of the years? _

I should not be here. I should not be alive. I should not be allowed to keep breathing. I guess that's why it's so hard for me to breathe now, that's why every air intake only comes after much effort, and never without a sharp pain. That's why my lungs refuse to expand to allow the oxygen to enter. It's my body telling me that I do not deserve this, I do not deserve air I breathe or the soil I step on or the food I eat or the water I drink. I do not deserve the beats of my heart which refuses to stop working even when I beg it to. I do not deserve life.

To say that I am a waste of space would be far too kind. I am not something whose existence is indifferent to the world; I am not a dead weight. I am a force. I do things and I change things. Hell, I transported a whole land to another world. A waste of space is something that simply occupies it without serving for anything at all. That is not me. No, that is much, much better than what I am. I would be relieved if ever I could tell myself that my existence makes no difference. But it does. God, it does, and _that _is what makes it all so terrible.

I am a force of evil. I hurt. I destroy. I kill. That is what I do. And that makes a difference. That causes pain and misery, that leaves people broken on the floor, makes them a sobbing mess, takes away all their hope. That is what I am. That is what I do. I am not a waste of space; I am the worst possible use of space. The mere fact that I am alive practically subverts the essence of things. Because oxygen is good... but if oxygen is what keeps me from suffocating to death, then it is horrible, because it is what keeps a monster like me in the world, it is what forces everyone else to have to deal with me and the destruction I cause. Water is great, it washes away the thirst and allows plants to grow and makes sure there are fruit and vegetables and so on; but if there were no water, then three days would be enough for me to reach dehydration and not be here anymore.

I could go on forever, listing each and every of the things that keep me alive when I so clearly should not be. Each of them makes the world a far worse place by allowing me to continue existing. Each of them should be cursed for being so easily accessible to me, just like they are for every other person, for not denying themselves to me as they should. Food should fall out of my hands and refuse to enter my mouth until I would reach starvation; heat should stay away from my body and make me freeze to death; my internal organs should jump out, ripping my skin apart on the way, so I would have absolutely nothing working inside me.

It seems unfair that the elements of nature, biology, botanics and whatnot should treat me the same way they treat good people, people who actually deserve to be here, people who actually do good things and help each other and build friendships and families and spread love around. It seems even more unfair that they would treat me even _more kindly _than they treat some of those people. Because some of them stop breathing, their hearts stop working, their lives go away. Some of them lose their souls to dark creatures that suck them and trap them for eternity... like that poor prince did.

He died in my place; the soul that wraith took should have been mine. A soul of light like his, one that could have done so much good, one that effectively _did _good, for a dark, corrupted, evil soul like mine. That trade does not seem reasonable at all, much less fair, and all I can think is that it is all my fault. I should have let it take my soul, every last bit of it, piece by little piece. It's not like my soul is worth a damn thing, after all, and neither is my life. It's all worthless, just like I am. So why couldn't I have simply allowed it to kill me?

No, I had to be a coward. I had to be afraid for myself, I had to try to save my own skin without bothering to think about how or at what cost. No matter how many times I tell myself that I couldn't have known there was anyone left in that old land at all, I couldn't have known that man would be there because, as far as I knew, that world had ceased to exist... it's not enough. It's not enough that I didn't know. I should have made sure that it was safe, I should have made sure that no one would get hurt by me sending that monster away.

But I didn't. It never even crossed my mind. Because that's just not what I do. I don't care about anyone else. I don't even _think _about anyone else besides myself, except when it is to hate them and try to figure out the best way to destroy them. I _never _care about not hurting anyone; quite the opposite. So of course I never bothered to check whether there was still anyone left in Fairytale Land that would suffer the consequences of my cowardice, or of my selfishness. I killed a good man, I killed a prince, I killed an innocent young girl's true love... because I could not be bothered to think about anyone else besides my own self.

_That _is what I am. "What", because "who" would imply a person... and that is a term far too kind to refer to me. I lack everything that turns a being into a person, everything. Although I cannot be called an animal either, because those are most usually innocent, only killing to satisfy their basic needs, without any sort of malice. Animals are much better than me. A monster, that would be the only accurate way to describe me. Evilness and hatred and anger and jealousy and revenge turned into a living thing. That is all that I am.

I wonder how I came so far, how I reached this point. I wasn't always like this. How come this is all that's left of me? Of the little girl who wanted nothing more than to please her mother? Of the child who loved playing with dolls, but also enjoyed just as much climbing trees and horseback riding? Of the young woman whose dream and only desire was to be allowed to have a life beside the man she loved? Where did that all go? Where did _I _go? When and where did I get lost, how did I lose myself that much? How did I allow myself this descent, this level of wickedness? I was a person once, and a mostly decent one at that, in spite of my mistakes. I once had light in me, joy, music; I was able to genuinely smile, to love, to embrace someone to show affection, and not as a mean to rip their heart out. But that person is gone now, and I doubt there is anywhere, in this world or any other, that I can find her again.

And this one? This thing that occupies the body that used to belong to that hopeful young girl? This does not deserve to be allowed to draw one single breath more, or live for a single second longer. So how come I am still here? How come the cosmos has not yet organized itself to take my life? How come no one has held a public execution for me yet, or even a private one? The curse is broken, but apart from one half-hearted try easily contained by Sheriff Swan, no one has done anything to fix the fact that I am not yet dead. They could have; after all, soon after, she was sucked into that portal – also by my fault – and the interim sheriff would have been more than happy to see me dead. In fact, perhaps he would have enjoyed taking care of that himself; it wouldn't be the first time he'd have tried. But not even he did anything about that.

I honestly do not understand. This is at least the second time that they have had me right within their reach, and still they have not killed me yet. The first time, they simply let me walk away, when I was completely prepared and more than ready to face death. This time, I could at first blame it on the fact that I have my magic back and could have easily not only defended myself, but also caused some serious damage to whomever wanted to take me down and the whole rest of the town... But by now everyone knows I am trying to avoid using magic. In fact, David has known this for quite a while, and he had at least a few chances to have me killed. Hell, he could have simply allowed Daniel to do it, then he would not even have had to get his hands dirty. But instead he was actually hesitant to as much as leave me alone with him... it was almost like he was afraid Daniel was going to hurt me.

And that... that is something that I just cannot understand. As far as I know, he does not care for me at all, and would much rather get rid of me. He would have let the wraith take me if it had not been for his daughter and her promise to Henry... and right now, I honestly wish he would have. I wish Miss Swan would not have interfered in my favor that day... not when the mob came for me, not when the dark creature did. Then this could all have been avoided... then that young girl would still have her prince, she would still have her heart intact, her true love, her hope of a happy ending.

I try to think of a way to revert that, I go through every single book in this empty house trying to find a spell to revert time, to change how things happened, to make that wraith take _my _soul instead... I look for anything that can give me a clue on how to get a soul back once that happens, anything that can tell me that not all is lost, that that princess can still have a good life, that things can still be fixed for her even if it's far too late for me... but it's to no avail. I spend two whole days doing that, with trips to the library included, even if, by the time I resort to that, I know it is simply out of despair. The only one who owns books that could possibly hold answers to my questions is my own self, as well as Gold, but he would never help me... and I would never ask, considering it was he who sent that thing after me. That young man's death is almost as much his fault as it is mine, and he does not seem to care the slightest bit about it either.

By the third day, I am completely hopeless. I let myself fall onto the couch in a completely undignified way. I have not been able to sleep since I talked to the princess; none of the few things I have tried to eat lasted more than a couple of hours in my stomach; I have not been able to take a deep, or even a regular, breath since that day either, and yet I have also not stopped breathing completely as I would have liked. I am completely exhausted, and way past the point of caring about manners. So I simply allow gravity to best me and my own weight to take me down; I end up something between sitting and lying down on my back, with far too little energy to move and settle myself into either.

I rub my eyes for what's probably the millionth time, trying to make them stop burning, even if I know it's useless, just as useless as my research. The only thing that will make them any better is sleep, but I doubt that it is going to come anytime soon. I run my hands through my hair, and it is also far from the first time I do this; it's almost as if it would help my head work, as if it could shake my thoughts and give me an idea, anything at all that I could start from. But of course it doesn't work, as it hasn't in either of the many times before.

At some point, my mind gets sidetracked. That's not hard to understand, considering how tired I am; it's a miracle I have been able to focus so far. But actually allowing myself to relax my body, to stop moving, to stop frantically flipping through pages and more pages of useless information, to stop going from one set of shelves to the other, somehow makes my mind slow down and take a life of its own as well. I stay there and, for God knows how long, I barely have a notion of anything. I don't know how long it's been that I've been lying here, or what I have been thinking of for that time; it's like I have gone out of my body and of my mind, like I have ceased to exist for those moments... and that thought is oddly comforting.

When I come back to myself, though, I am instantly aware of where my mind has drifted to... and of the tricks it's trying to play on me. Somehow, in my absence, it has started remembering my whole life, examining bit by bit, trying to figure out all the turning points that accumulated themselves one on top of the other and ended up turning me into this... Above all, it started wondering what I would have to do to fix it all, to change again, to go back to the girl I used to be, or at least to become the woman I would have become, had I not been so weak and allowed myself to turn into this monster instead.

And, for a moment, I indulge in the images that my brain is showing me, even if it is just to humor my own self. I give my mind permission to keep its track of thought even now that I am conscious of it, because it is soothing, in a way. It's almost like a movie; a sappy one, the kind you watch simply to distract yourself from your own misery, like a silly romantic comedy that you _know _even before it starts that is going to end well. I watch the film playing inside my head as some form of entertainment; it shows someone happy, someone who can do good things and be a good person, someone who is actually worth something, who can be loved and forgiven in spite of everything... I allow myself to enjoy that for a few moments. But that's all I can do.

There is nothing left of the life I could have had, or of the person I could have been. There is no way to change things, because there is nothing to change to, there is nothing to go back to. That girl I once was is long dead and buried, and nothing of her remains anymore; there is absolutely nothing I could hold onto, nothing I could use as a guide or example to follow, nothing I could reach for or use as a goal. I have lost everything, past and future, what I had and what I could have had. And it's no use dwelling on fantasies or dreams.

I tried to change... I honestly tried, as hard as I could, with strength I did not even know I possessed. And it did not work. I still destroyed two lives, two lives that could have been filled with love and joy. There is no hope left for me. Whatever it is that my life could have turned out to be like, whatever it is that _I _could have turned out to be, that is long lost. The only way for me to fix anything at all is to stop existing; and not even that will actually _fix _anything, but it will at least make sure that I do not _ruin_ anything else anymore. And that is probably the only dignified thing I can still do.

It brings me some pain to admit that, to realize that I am so far gone that I have completely lost the capacity to do a single good thing, that the only act of kindness that I can still perform is to rid everyone else of my existence. I am lucky that I am in this state of complete exhaustion, I guess. It makes me numb enough to not care too much... otherwise this conclusion, and the consequence that figuring this out brings, would have probably made me cry.

As it is, though, I simply feel my heart contract for a while, as if there was something tugging at it, and my breathing becomes yet a bit more ragged than it already was before. I know, however, that, if I allow myself to dwell on it for much longer, a breakdown will be unavoidable, no matter how tired I am. So, before that can happen, I try to shut down. I try to detach myself from every emotion, every feeling, everything that is not strictly practical. That is what I have done for the last almost four decades of my life; one could say it comes almost as a second nature to me. That is what I have resorted to, so that I could bear everything I had to bear when I could not say a word about it; that is what has helped me through everything and allowed me to remain standing when everything in my life collapsed; that is what made it possible for me to do everything I have done, all the atrocities I have committed, and still get to sleep at night.

This behavior is exactly what I should be trying to avoid, to distance myself from, if there was any hope of change for me at all. But since there isn't... then this is all that is left for me to do. All it takes are a few minutes of building my mask again and adjusting back into it, and soon everything simply ceases to bother me. My feelings go away, as quickly as if with magic, and all I'm left with are the sensations of my body, since I have still not learned a way to get rid of those too. Right now, they tell me I urgently need rest, so I force myself to get up from the couch, against every muscle that insists on protesting, and direct myself to my bedroom. I must have overestimated my capacity, however, because the last things I am conscious of are the distinct feeling that I am falling, and the vision of the steps getting closer and closer to my face as I do.

_If there's another way to go  
I missed it twenty long years ago  
My life was a war that could never be won _

* * *

** Hmm, I think this can officially be considered the first cliffhanger of this story... ;) To be honest, I don't like this chapter too much... I don't think it ended up being the way I wanted it to. But maybe that has to do with my mood today, so... I hope you like it better than I do. I'd be very thankful if you could let me know what you think, as always! ;)**

** The song is "What have I done?", also from the Les Misérables. I'm sure you can notice a theme by now. ;)**


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